Stare
by Imma Diva
Summary: A reinterpretation of how Medusa came to be. Taken from Ancient Greek Mythology.  Told from Medusa's point of view, you get an entirely new perspective on how and why Medusa was made into a Gorgon.


**Stare**

Medusa's Story

Have you ever heard the saying, "looks can kill"?

Well, in my case, just one glance could turn any man to stone.

Don't laugh at me! You don't know my story…. No one does….

You can't tell a story without eye-contact. At least, that's what my mother told me. She was the village story-teller, and could weave stories just as Athena could weave silk. She told the stories of the ancient heroes; Theseus, Hercules, and later, would tell the story of the great Gorgon, Medusa. She was not a hero, but a misunderstood daughter. She should know. I'm that Gorgon.

Pursued

No one tells you about why things happen for fear of making the gods look bad. No one wants to be the one to tell the story that might anger said god.

I have no such qualms. What more can they take from me? My mother has long since died. Perseus has long since been named a King. They have taken my beauty.

It all starts really, with my being such a famed beauty in my village where my mother and I were staying. We moved around a lot, because of my mother being a τροβαδούρο. You can't tell stories if you've never been in the middle of one. My mother used to tell me that when I'd get upset with our moving from one town to the next. We'd moved so often, I couldn't tell you what town we were in when it happened.

The village boys followed me like sick puppies, tripping over themselves to do my every whim. But they bored me. None of them was bold or exotic, strong or even slightly interesting. I instead preferred the ocean. That was my love. The bitter-sweet smell of salt, brine, and fresh sea breeze; the endless blue, always there for me when I needed to escape: after a while, the sea seemed to reflect my emotion. When I was upset, it was dark and stormy. When I was angry, it was untamable. When I was happy or joyful, it turned green and was gentle. I never knew it was because of the interest of a god.

No one ever tells you why things happen. It's just always assumed that it's the gods.

And no one ever speaks ill of the gods. They are too powerful, too all-consuming, all- being, to be anything but.

But you know what? Nobody ever argues with a god. Io had no choice when Zeus followed her, charmed her as a bull, and caused Hera's anger to crash down on her. Zeus was forced to turn her into a cow. All because his emotions could not be controlled… Or Poseidon, when he and Athena argued of Athens; he did not take his anger out on Athena, who could handle it, but on the city that had wounded his pride. Maybe that's why no one argues with a god… because that's one fight no one would win.

Take the day I first met Poseidon. I sat on the beach, hugging my knees, feeling the sea breeze catch my hair and lift it, cooling my neck, and running down my arms and legs. It was bright and sunny, and warm, so the breeze was delicious against my sweat from the heat._ Lord Apollo, blessed is the sun, please, give us a breeze._

I sat there, thinking about nothing, when a shout reached my ears.

"Look!" Shrieked one of the many half-witted girls who were splashing around in the shallows. "A boy, oh, a boy! Μεγάλη Δίας! O, Lord Zeus!"

I leaped to my feet, shaking sand out of my skirts, gathered the cotton fabric into my fist, and ran to the brunette.

"What is it?" I gasped out, the heat making me regret the short run. "What are you shrieking about?"

"O, look! It's a boy; he looks drowned! O Medusa, help him!"

"Great Zeus!" I cursed under my breath, and waded out to where the limp form lay, sodden and dark, un moving on a sand bar. "Fetch Drakus and Flan and them," I called to the small cluster of girls, who nodded dazedly, and sprinted toward shore.

I reached the prone form in a matter of seconds. It was a boy, about my age, with brown hair and tanned skin. His lips were cracked, ad his tunic and breeches soaking and speckled white with dried sea-foam. "Great gods," I gasped as I rolled him into a more comfortable position.

He moaned and licked his lips. They moved, as though he was speaking, but all that came out was a rush of hot, starved breath.

"Don't speak now, brave one. You shall be attended to soon," I whispered, brushing sea-salt-incrusted hair of his sunburned forehead. A shout from behind made me whip about, dropping the poor sailor's head upon the hard-packed sand. "O!" I gasped. I quickly scooped his head back onto my lap and cried, "Hurry, hurry! He's quite dehydrated and is in need of a healer!"

The next few days passed slowly, as I waited for news of the sailor's health. I even forgot to visit my beach where I usually spent most of my days. I could hardly eat, and drank only water and the weakest of ales. I sat in darkness and cold, waiting impatiently for news on the wounded soul.

Finally, finally, I received word.

"You may visit him now," One of the healer's apprentices told me, breathless from a run in blistering heat. I jumped to my feet and followed the boy out of my home. We rushed along muddy-cobblestoned street that wound along the spine of the village. We reached the healer's home, adorned with spells and poems of healing; the sign of the sun decorated the top of the doorway, telling all who were too half-witted to make the connection that the person who dwelled inside was blessed by the great healer Apollo.

"How is he?" I asked the healer breathlessly, not even looking at him before rushing to the sailor's bedside. He looked so much better; his skin had lost its pale luster and his lips were full. His sunburn was nearly gone, and his eyes were closed and he seemed to sleep, instead of that unconscious state I'd found him in. Even as I watched, his eyes fluttered open and I saw that they were a bright, resounding sea-blue. I gasped despite myself, and he blinked wearily.

"Hello," He asked drowsily. "Are you Aphrodite?"

I couldn't help but giggle. "No, my name is Medusa. I was the maiden who found you," sort of. "Who are you?"

"My name is Po—um, Arnav." He mumbled, stumbling slightly over his words. I smiled; his name meant 'ocean'. The healer entered the room, his eyes kind but firm as he said, "I'm sorry, young maiden; he needs his rest." I nodded, glanced down at Arnav, and whispered, "I'll be back." And fled the house.

For the next few days, I spent my time at the healer's house, helping to nurse Arnav to health. Don't ask me why I spent so much time with a youth I had no notion who he was; I have spent centuries of my life wondering that.

The time came when Arnav was cleared of all injuries. I spent the day showing him about the village. For some reason, he refused to meet my mother. "We've… met." Was all he would tell me. I dropped the subject. It was around this time that the female-youths of the village began to notice Arnav. Every time he passed, one of them would drop something, another would squeal, and a third would bat her eyes and wave flirtatiously. "Χαιρετισμοί Arnav," Thisbe, (The village flirt,) was quite persistent in her flirting with Arnav. She had been the first to notice Arnav's body in the ocean, but I didn't count that. She was vying for him to take her to the Aphrodisia festival. There would be dancing and games, but I think Thisbe was thinking mainly of the dancing and being close to Arnav part. I couldn't see how Arnav wouldn't crack soon—Thisbe's name meant 'lover'. Many of the youths in our village had already asked her to dance with them, but she had cruelly turned them down.

The day of the festival came, and for some reason, I spent special time getting ready for it; I tied my long, coiling auburn hair in several braids that cascaded about my face like curling snakes. I threaded them through with gold flowers and ribbons and myrtle, flowers sacred to Aphrodite. My χιτώνας was flirtatiously short, just hitting the tops of my knees, and was decorated with doves, sparrows, and swans, all sacred to the goddess. I wore dove hair clips and sparrows for earrings, and a swan-bracelet laced up my bicep. I had a thin white shawl to wrap about my tan arms, and my feet were bare. About my ankles were bracelets with small, perfect golden bells that sounded like doves. My outfit was a tribute to the goddess.

The festival started at the sunset, and would go till sunrise. I laughed out loud for no apparent reason as my mother and I walked down toward the village-center. My mother's head turned toward me, and she smiled vaguely. She wore a hooded tunic, as was the outfit she always wore when she was going to tell a story; it had animals and people and scenery threaded through it and the hood shadowed her sightless eyes. She too wore dove earrings, sparrows on her bracelets, and swans about her arms. Her every step was echoed by doves.

We reached the village center with time to spare, so I helped my mother set up her teller's chair; a soft covered chair with strong legs and gold twining up the legs, arms, and back, taking the shapes of people, animals, and places in the world. Every time I looked at it, I found something different.

"Wow; you look like a walking temple for Aphrodite," a voice murmured behind me. I whirled, and nearly dropped my mother's basket of props. He caught it with amazing reflexes and smiled at me. "Sorry to surprise you."

"Ω μου! –Not a problem!" I told him, my breath still catching in my throat, my heart slowing slightly. "You—I was just helping my mother set up her teller's chair—what are you doing here?" I stumbled out, blushing furiously and brushing a stray braid from my face. He laughed at my embarrassment and took my hand. "Dear Medusa; what would I do without you to laugh with?" He kissed my hand, and I felt his lips burn a hole straight through to my heart.

"I can't imagine what you would get up to, Lord Arnav." I teased, unable to believe that I was being so cool when my heart burned through my veins.

"Arnav!" A girly voice squealed. He dropped my hand with a sigh and turned toward the voice. Thisbe stood there, looking fantastic in a red χιτώνας that was even shorter than mine; her legs were tanned and threaded through with golden-painted on doves, sparrows, swans and myrtles. Attached to her tunic was the same flowers, and her hair was bedecked with them. Gold held her hair into a cascade of soft brown curls. Up her arms curled doves and swans.

"Thisbe," sighed Arnav. He bowed to her and said, "You look lovely; Aphrodite would be quite happy that one of her chosen is honoring her so." His words flowed like honey over my ears. Too bad he was speaking to Thisbe. I turned away, cursing slightly.

"Ανόητο! " I muttered to myself, rubbing my head. For a moment there, I'd been excited with possibilities with Arnav. What could I have been thinking? That I was Ερωτευμένο? I had only known him a couple of months. O, curses on love and Aphrodite and Arnav, and anything that has anything to do with love!

The festival carried on, and soon my momentary confusion and anger with Aphrodite and joined in the traditional dancing around the fire. The night grew older as Artemis pulled the moon across the stars and sky. Aphrodite blessed my feet as I danced my heart out. If only I'd known that was my last night dancing this festival.

"Arnav Medusa khairein," a soft voice spoke behind me as the elder women took the fire. I jumped, and for the second time that night, whirled to see Arnav smiling. Had he watched me dancing? I blushed and discarded the thought as Ανόητο.

"Medusa Arnav khairein," I told him, bowing my head. He took my hand. "Come with me," He tugged at my arm, and, startled, I followed him to the beach.

"I can't see very well; I hope we're not swimming. Otherwise we'll be Καρχαρίας ζωοτροφών ." I told him, smilingly. He grinned and said; "we're not swimming Αγαπητέ αγάπη; I wanted to speak with you privately, and I always think better closer to the ocean." I blinked: he had just called me his love! I smiled and nodded; I felt the same way.

He stopped walking so quickly I almost ran into him. I stopped just short of him. He turned and looked at me, and for some reason, his eyes glowed, just like a του Θεού. I blinked, and, turning away, gazed out at the ocean.

"I have watched you for a long time μικρή Περιστέρι. You have no idea how long," His words startled me into speaking.

"What! You've been watching me? From where? How long? How come I never saw you?"

"I—My name is not Arnav, Medusa. I am the god Poseidon. I have—." I gasped and pulled away from him. He couldn't be! He couldn't say that! The Lord Poseidon would strike him down for such awful words! Διορθωτής! "Don't say that! Lord Poseidon will strike you for such blasphemous words! Take it back!" I begged. He shook his head.

"I am the Lord Poseidon." He said it so simply, like he really believed it. How could he? Was he Τρελό?

"Prove it," I said, and clapped my hands over my mouth; why had I said that? I did not want to encourage him—I wanted him to take it back!

"Fine," He led me to water's edge. He stood there for only a moment before the water surged around us and engulfed us. I yelped, but my yell was cut off as water rushed down my throat. Coughing, I spit it out. Then realized I was able to spit it out. And breathe. O Zeus! _I was breathing under water_ !

"Take me back up!" I shrieked, scared out of my wits. Poseidon—Arnav, whatever his name was, looked at me quizzically but in a moment we were standing completely dry on the beach. I gasped and buried my head in his shoulder. He smelled of the sea.

"I thought you loved the sea," His voice was quiet, disappointed. I shook my head against his shoulder. "I love the ocean, but breathing underwater is not for the likes of me. Only gods—." That's when I remembered who I was talking to. I pulled away and dropped to the sand, covering my face in my arms. "Forgive me, Lord Poseidon! I did not mean to offend! I did not know you for who you were! Forgive me!" Hands— warm, inviting— gripped my arms and hauled me up.

"There is nothing to forgive, Medusa; I have loved you since I first saw you watching the ocean with such passion. You looked like a θεά. I want you to come live with me in my palace, and become immortal, and stay with me forever." Then he kissed me. I almost got lost in his kiss, before I tore away, gasping, "Come to your palace? Underwater? W—why? Why me?" He chuckled and pulled me into him again.

"Because you are you, Medusa; you are everything I want in a wife. Please, come with me; don't make me beg." The thought of a god begging me was just too much. It was dumb, I know; but I ran. I sprinted across the beach while Poseidon called after me. "Wait, Medusa!" I didn't listen. I ran to Aphrodite's temple since it was her night. _Παρακαλώ__να__με__βοηθήσει__, o __θεά__._

It was then as I ran that I realized I didn't want the love of Poseidon; I wanted Arnav. He was human… mortal, like me. He wasn't an all-powerful deity that would one day tire of me and take away my immortality. I couldn't love someone like that; I just knew it.

I entered the goddess' temple, but it was so crowded that I quickly left. Who else could I seek help from? I began to sweat as I tore through the village's side streets, searching, searching. There! It was probably stupid to just dive into a random temple, but I was desperate, scared, and tired. I stumbled into Athena's temple, which was cold and vacant on Aphrodite's night. I sank at the feet of the goddess. _Παρακαλώ__να__με__βοηθήσει__, o __θεά__._

"Medusa!"

_Παρακαλώ__να__με__βοηθήσει__, o __θεά__._

"Please, listen to me!"

_Παρακαλώ__να__με__βοηθήσει__, o __θεά__._ I_ don't care what you take away for your tribute; just help me!_

Pain blossomed in my head. I cried out. "Medusa!" I heard Poseidon yell, but after that, I could no longer hear. I felt my hair on fire, my skin, my very being. I felt a shriek rip through my longs as I rose into the air, twisting and turning and roiling into a shape—

I landed with a scaly thud, crumpled into a heap. I sat up slowly, and hissed in pain. Poseidon yelled in fury and screamed, "Κατάρα σας μηχανισμό ΑΘΗΝΑ! Θα ξεχάσω ποτέ αυτή η μάστιγα για την υπερηφάνεια μου!"

That's when I noticed the mirror. I shrieked, and it broke. But not before the image was burned into my mind. Scales, pale green in color, covered my entire body, and were thickest just after my hips, where, instead of legs, was a long, sinuous green tail. My tunic had torn, and now was just covering my top, and did nothing to hid the scales on my shoulders, color bone, arms and hands and stomach. My hands were clawed and large, but slender. My hair—oh my beautiful hair! It was a mass of angry red snakes, twisting and snapping, hissing and spitting. My mouth was full, but fangs protruded, and when I shrieked, my jaw unhinged to drop open much wider than any human's mouth should be able to do. My eyes... strangely, I do not remember my eyes. I was too preoccupied by the rest of me to worry about such a small thing as my eyes.

_μου__δώρο__σας__, __κόρη__. __μου__σας__ποτέ__να__έτρεπαν__και__πάλι__._

After

It's been centuries since someone dared look into my face. Or to be in my presence, so I thank you, brave one, for hearing my true story. It was not Athena's fault, nor Poseidon's. It was mine, and I live with it every day of my long, miserable life.

Translations:

Παρακαλώ να με βοηθήσει, o θεά= please, help me, o goddess

Θεά= goddess

Τρελό= crazy (i.e. that guys is loco)

Διορθωτής= curses

μικρή Περιστέρι= little dove

του Θεού= god's

Αγαπητέ αγάπη= my love

Καρχαρίας ζωοτροφών= shark feed

Ερωτευμένο= in love

Ανόητο= stupid

Ω μου= oh my

Χιτώνας= tunic

Χαιρετισμοί= Greetings (EX: Χαιρετισμοί Arnav= greetings Arnav)

Μεγάλη Δίας= Great Zeus

Τροβαδούρο= story teller

Κατάρα σας μηχανισμό ΑΘΗΝΑ! Θα ξεχάσω ποτέ αυτή η μάστιγα για την υπερηφάνεια μου!= Curse you Athena! I shall never forget this blight to my pride!

μου δώρο σας, κόρη. μου σας ποτέ να έτρεπαν και πάλι. = my gift to you, my daughter; may you never be chased again.

Thank you to Google for helping me find what festivals and objects were sacred to Aphrodite!

Thank you to Microsoft Word Starter for all the translations.


End file.
